


setup

by Here_There_Be_Kinks



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Non-Penetrative Sex, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Martin Blackwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Here_There_Be_Kinks/pseuds/Here_There_Be_Kinks
Summary: “Boss!”Tim gasps, like he’s absolutely flabbergasted they’ve been caught. “Oh no! However did you happen upon us in flagrante delicto? How did you find us?”“This ismyflat!”“But you’re homeearly.”“It’s past eight!” he protests, and Martin… Martin,too,helaughs.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 111





	setup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astrangevoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangevoid/gifts).



> terminology reffed for Jon & Martin: clit/cunt

When Jon works late, he doesn’t expect anyone to wait up on him. Not Tim, and not even Martin, even if it is sometimes a chore to chase the latter out of the archives if he decides to stay later than seven. He’s the Archivist, at the end of the day– it’s his job to finish off what doesn’t get done during normal working hours. So he’s used to the silence of the Institute at night, and coming home to an empty flat. And he doesn’t mind, really. It’s comforting in its routine, and Jon’s settled into it.

What is not routine is coming home and finding Martin sprawled out in Jon’s favorite armchair, pants down around his ankles, and Tim with his face buried between his thighs like– like he’s been at it all night. And– And maybe he _has,_ Jon thinks, standing in the doorway. He’s been momentarily struck stupid. Okay, more than momentarily. Martin’s face is three shades of red, sweat damp hair and– and Tim–

“Jon–” Martin starts, except it’s more of a moan, and Jon suspects it’s more to alert Tim than anything else, because, yes, there he goes, pulling his face out of– and his face is soaked down to his chin– oh Christ, they’ve _absolutely_ been going at it for awhile.

_“Boss!”_ Tim gasps, like he’s absolutely _flabbergasted_ they’ve been caught. “Oh no! However did you happen upon us in flagrante delicto? How did you find us?”

“This is _my_ flat!” He doesn’t mean to go along with it, he really doesn’t. It just… slips out, and Tim’s stupid, put-upon look of pure scandal turns to a grin. Only for a moment.

“But you’re home _early.”_

“It’s past _eight!”_ he protests, and Martin… Martin, _too,_ he _laughs._ It’s just a tiny thing, as he’s still breathless from the apparently thorough oral he’s just received.

If it wasn’t obvious before, it is now: this is a setup.

“Christ, is it?” Tim asks, and it’s the first time he’s actually sounding like he’s posing a serious question. Not acting, now, and he smiles properly up at Martin. “I’ve been pushing you for awhile, huh?”

“I _told_ you–”

“Time flies when you’re having fun. And we’ve been having fun,” he adds, over his shoulder to Jon. 

It’s in a tone of voice that cuts straight through him, instantly settling with a throb between his legs. The same kind of familiar feeling from last night, when Jon had had a questing hand between his legs in a casual go at masturbating; he hadn’t gotten off, not then, but now the feeling’s back in full force, and stronger than before. And he has a _slight_ feeling this whole thing might just be because he’d been honest when Tim had asked him how his night had been. He hadn’t expected him to initiate something, though– although perhaps he _should_ have, always so accommodating–

“Haven’t we, Martin?” Tim continues, and ducks his head again.

“Yes– Christ!” Martin yelps, and Jon can’t _see_ from this distance, and this angle, but he knows– _knows–_ how it feels with Tim’s tongue at his clit– “Please get me off. Please, _please–”_

“You have been good,” Tim murmurs, kissing at the inside of his thigh. Now Jon can see the hickeys starting to darken there, and his mouth goes dry. “Waiting so patiently for our Archivist…”

“Yes!”

“Even though he’s so late to the party.”

_“Tim,”_ Martin groans, threading his hands into his hair. And then he splays a hand at the back of Tim’s head, forcing his mouth back to his cunt. “For fuck’s _sake,_ finish eating me out.”

Tim _laughs,_ but it’s muffled, and he _does_ go back to licking his way up into Martin. He– he must do, by the _sounds,_ and the way Martin’s head falls back on the back of the chair, and Jon– he’s, he’s _jealous,_ just then, even though he hadn’t been thinking of anyone’s mouth near him when he’d been horny last night– 

Martin lasts such a short time, and Jon’s still standing in the doorway, still wearing his coat, still holding his bag, still trying to catch up. He was… they were… he ought to be _appalled,_ but he– he really _isn’t–_

“Ohh, Martin,” Tim is saying, as he raises his head, “You’re so perfect, you know? _Never_ change.” He grabs at his thigh to steady himself, and stretches up to kiss him. 

“I– _ergh.”_ Martin laughs, and shoves his face away to wipe at the mix of saliva and slick now on his face. “You’re disgusting,” he complains, but the humor on his face says he thinks otherwise. Jon _knows_ he thinks otherwise.

“Hey, can’t help it you’re so wet for me!” Tim yanks his shirt up to wipe his face and Martin’s right, he’s completely abhorrent… terrible… fuck.

Jon squeezes his thighs, and Martin catches his gaze over Tim’s shoulder. And in that second he ceases to be _soft,_ all fucked out like he’s been looking. He just looks… _devious._ This was definitely a setup from the start.

“Well, c’mon, boss,” Tim says suddenly, throwing another glance over his shoulder. “Help an old man up and you can ride my thigh after if you’d like.”

Jon drops the bag, and starts forward on wobbly legs.

“Old man,” Martin echoes, playfully kicking at Tim.

“Hey! I’ve been down here for a _long. time!”_

“Who’s idea was it to start so soon??”

“Tim,” Jon says urgently, tugging his jacket off. He offers a hand down to him, resisting the urge to sink down and rub off against him now. It wouldn’t work. He needs more leverage. “Finish what you’ve started.”

“Who says I haven’t already?” Tim winks, but lets Jon pull him over to the sofa. And Jon wastes no time in sliding onto his lap, slotting Tim’s thigh snug beneath him. “Christ, Jon. You didn’t say you were _that_ horny.”

“I wasn’t.” He braces his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “But I am now.” He’s not usually, not usually so… _brazen,_ but it’s easier– with Tim, with Martin. He grinds down on Tim’s thigh, feels the drag of the fabric against his clit, and it would be so much easier if he were wearing– sweats, or something, a skirt– but it’s too much time, and effort, and he doesn’t think he wants to undress, anyway. “Thanks for that.”

“Yeah. We’re hot.” Tim grins, sliding his arms around his waist. “Can I kiss your neck?” He shifts his thigh _up,_ and Jon presses down and into it, already breathing hard. And then he takes one hand from Tim’s shoulder to start fumbling at the buttons on his own shirt, popping one, and then two, enough to yank his collar away from his neck, and offer his throat to Tim.

_“Yes,_ you can give me a hickey,” he says in a rush. Because that’s what Tim means to ask, he _knows._ “God knows you– ngh–” Tim wastes no time, latching onto his neck with the wet heat of his mouth spurring Jon on, closer, desperate to find that one sweet spot of roughness and pleasure.

“Gonna finish for me fast, too, Jon?” He sucks at his neck, licks at his jugular. “Fucking my leg like a needy little bitch–”

Oh, that again. Jon groans, pressing his forehead against Tim’s chest. Dirty talk. “Tim, _why–”_ He gasps as Tim’s hands come down on his hips, pressing him harder into his thigh.

“Well, I don’t know why you’re so horny, Jon. I _really_ couldn’t tell you– oh, wait! Maybe it was _Martin!_ Watching him beg me to fuck him with my tongue?”

“Maybe,” Jon grunts.

“Getting all wet for me. Well, he’s the same for you.” Jon jerks as he bites his neck. “Over there touching himself now, _again,_ just watching you be all twitchy and desp–”

Jon gasps when he comes, knees seizing around Tim’s thigh tight enough it might bruise. Or maybe his fingers will bruise his shoulders. Or– or Tim’s hands on his hips. His mouth on his neck. He shudders through the last of his orgasm, and sags fully against Tim’s chest.

“… desperate,” Tim finishes, and laughs.

Jon should still be appalled. He’s still anything but. “Shut up,” he mutters, completely devoid of any anger, and doesn’t raise his head.

_“Suuure,_ boss.”

He stays like that, just for a moment longer. It’s disgusting, a bit; he’s sweaty and _wet_ and his pulse is still pounding. He’ll have to do laundry. He wonders if maybe they’ll take it down for him. Maybe he’ll ask.

“Here, Jon.” There’s a nudge against his back, and Martin’s voice over his shoulder. Jon sits up enough to see Martin standing there, trousers back up but still unbuttoned, holding a glass of water out to him. “Drink this?”

He… his mouth still is dry. Water sounds nice. He straightens up, and lets Tim keep him steady, as he reaches for the glass. “Thank you,” he says, again, and this time, it feels a bit awkward on his tongue. Christ, he’d let that get out of hand. He’s… embarrassed, but not in a bad way. “Although that wasn’t exactly sex play,” he mutters, and takes a drink.

“I _mean,_ it sorta was? Not a full-blown scene, but… still.”

Jon relents, not really up for arguing it. It doesn’t matter. The orgasm was nice, and being doted on is… even nicer. He takes another drink, and shifts to sit on the couch next to Tim. “Did you… er, was that for me? All of…” He flicks his eyes towards the armchair. “That.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Sorta! I mean, Martin wanted to get off anyway, so–”

“Alright, thank you,” Martin interrupts.

“I’m just saying, even if you _hadn’t_ wanted to get off, that would have been cool. Because Martin did.”

_“Thank you, Tim,”_ Martin interrupts again, and Tim just _laughs._

Jon smiles into his glass of water, and gives himself a moment to relax into his welcome home.

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by V, who wanted some flavor of trans JMT 👁️👅👁️ I love a playful horny trio
> 
> Jon will be very fond when Tim WILL take his laundry down without asking 😌


End file.
